Swan Song
Second Day of the Fourth Month 294 AC
As Maelor called out a blessing with the swiftness of shadow, you utter a word of
unbinding that sears even your forked tongue. You watch in horror as the Herald of the Ferryman begins to melt into azure light drawn to the hand of andunseen sorcerer... and you watch in satisfaction as the spell fails before it can truly catch root, though Aife's own chant is broken in the doing. Yet more than a mere spirit is she...
A Name is spoken, deep as blackest waters, a miracle springs forth, from the strange twilight
a storm to cast astray the foes' arrows not a moment too soon as a dozen more ivory arrows arch forth from the mist only to sail harmlessly upwards. The Sisters of Vengeance and Vee together answer in turn among
a rain of blood red petals deadlier than steel to those of dark intent and the wrath of the Fallen, doom to those who know not darkness.
Fire you seek to spin into being, the Doom of Valyria upon this field to impart, but anther's hand is upon yours, the spell unraveled as you cast it, for all the power and all the lore you spin into it.
Even as the mist continues to rise all around you, the fey are dying, the illusion growing ragged, even as the eath is stained with their blood. For a moment you wonder if the battle will end before it has even properly begun in the light of Amrelath's searing breath, then a bolt of
coruscating energies explodes from where last you had seen Dusk Dancer, striking only those Erinyes and hunters which are too far fro the dragons to guard. It does not strip magic, but instead deaden the small silver talismans against mental intrusion. You know what comes next, you can feel it in the air,
terror kin to death dredged from the victim's darkest mind, a scream of sorrow, a scream of rage. The ring upon your claw burns cold the spell left stillborn
There is another, an echo as deadly as the first....
A small part of you, remote from the peril and the chaos of the battle, notes that would be a spell of the thirteenth circle to most mages, also known as utter madness and impossibility, but most of your attention is here and now as Zherys raises a hand against the magic, mortal will forged before the changing of the world against undying power...
He had seen to his own warding first, the Lord of Volantis, just as Maelor had done, but he is not blind nor yet a fool. The wave of death crashes against the sharp angles of his will and is no more. Alas, it is not the end of fey sorcery.
The music of revelry, of power, of excess, of passions older than all of humankind, rises from the ranks of the foe, Dusk Dancer's voice:
Come little children, I'll take thee away
Into a land of enchantment
Come little children, the time's come to play
Here in my garden of shadows.
The Erinyes who had the misfortune of their amulets failing are caught in a dance they cannot escape, patterns beautiful and painful to watch. Old are they and heavy with the heartache of the First War and the malice of ages, but the false promise of peace traps them true.
Follow sweet children, I'll show thee the way
Through all the pain and the sorrows.
Weep not poor children, life is this way
Murdering beauty and passion.
She is pouring all of her being into the spell, you realize with mounting horror and a touch of grudging respect as you notice even warded Erinyes beginning to sway with the dance. She knows she can't win this, but she is trying to take as many of you with her into oblivion. The hunter's eyes open, slaying fey and their mounts weakened by curses and cut by sorrow-roses.
Dusk Dancer's Doom: Through some relic or ritual, or perhaps a simple act of will here in the depths of the Feywild, Dusk Dancer has amplified her
Reveler's Rapture to a range of 300 ft. In one round it will begin overwhelming simple protection spells, in three rounds it will start rolling Dispell checks to suppress Mind Blank. In six rounds she will be dead, her magic and soul spent.
Three arrows fly towards you, but you hardly notice them as Ser Richard cuts them from the air.
What do you do?
[] Focus on Dusk Dancer
-[] To kill
-[] To capture
[] Focus on the unknown mage who cast Twinned Weird somehow
-[] To kill
-[] To capture
[] Write in
OOC: Well no one on your side is dead somehow, but a Lady of the Fey really wants you guys to suffer and is willing to kill herself for it, mostly because she figures it's death or worse for her anyway. Also the song isn't mine, it's from Hocus Pocus and creepiest thing to ever come out of a 90s Disney movie. Not yet edited.